


Tears Of The Shaman

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Angst, Drama, M/M, h/c
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 07:51:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/795676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Please see opening comments.I always screw up this part - why not continue?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tears Of The Shaman

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I seem to only be able to write stories - or dream up stories - about one or the other of the boys being shot at the moment. Sorry, but I guess my muse is just REALLY limited on imagination at the moment...as am I. From Blair's POV. 

## Tears Of The Shaman

by Jvantheterrible

Author's website:  <http://angelfire.com/oh3/SkinnerSanctum/index6.html>

Please see story beginning.

Piss off!

* * *

Tears Of The Shaman 

Author: Jvantheterrible  
Date: April 29th through May 12th, 2002 Pairing: J/B  
Disclaimer: Ok, look. These poor guys have been out of service longer than ME...so, they're not mine, and belong to...well, don't they belong to all of us now? Rating: R, for language, angst, violence, and EXTREME MUSH! Feedback: Sure, to duranjaxter@comcast.net Thanks for reading. Look, ma'...no beta! 

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO**

Jim and I have worked together for nearly ten years now. We've known each other much longer than that, and we've also been a couple longer than that...but since I've been a cop, we've officially worked together for nearly ten years. Jim is going to retire early, since the Great City of Cascade has offered him an early 'out' package which includes lots of money, benefits, hail mary's, and the like. This is our last week of working together, and I'm seriously debating whether or not I'll continue on as a cop without the Sentinel of the Great City by my side. Hey, I'm his Shaman, for God's sake...what the hell good can I do out there alone without my partner? But I digress... 

This call is like any other that we have taken in our time on the force together; there's a gunman (surprise) holed up in a three-story apartment building in the warehouse district. We've managed to talk the sorry son of a bitch into giving up his half-dozen or so hostages, and now we're just down here in the street, with kevlar vests and a bullhorn and each other for company. The rest of the force is out of sight around the corner, anxiously waiting for the star team - which would be Jim and me - to diffuse the situation the rest of the way. The asshole on the third floor only wants to talk to the 'Detective of the Year', which would also be Jim (um, and myself, since he and I seem to merit the damn title - one or the other or both of us in tandem) each year since we've been partnered. 

With Jim's senses and my extraordinary ability to negotiate verbally with most perps (or as Jim calls it, the "Blair Sandburg Bullshit Factor") due to my training in Anthropology, we usually have no trouble calming most situations. As I said, 'most' situations. Due to this being Jim's last week - and my 'pseudo-thinking-about-it' last week, things could not possibly go more awry; at least as far as I can tell. 

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO**

"Come on, Fairchild, this is getting old. We're all tired, and hungry, and ready to go home. So why don't you just come on down, and we'll get this all over with. You had to know that once you brought unarmed innocents into the scene that it was all over for you, man," I say into the bullhorn, my voice bouncing eerily off all the rest of the now-abandoned buildings on the block. 

For many minutes, there is no response, and I finally let the damn bullhorn drop a bit and rest against my chest as Jim and I continue to wait for some sign that he's listening. He wouldn't have called us in if he didn't have something to say, and several minutes later, both Jim and I jump when he opens a window up and sticks his head cautiously out. He threatens us with the semi-automatic in his hands at the same time that he begs us not to shoot, and though Ellison and I tense up, we manage not to do anything rash; he obviously just wants to be heard. Sounding board I can do; making swiss cheese out of my beloved and I (and our brothers in blue), I most definitely can't handle, man. 

"Go ahead, Fairchild," I raise the bullhorn once more to my lips and verbalize, "Tell us what you want and we'll do whatever we can to help you." 

"Fuck you, Sandburg," I hear drifting down from over my head, and Jim takes half a step closer to me when he sees the look on Fairchild's face as he speaks, "You're not the REAL Detective of the Year, dude. I want to talk to Ellison. You can fuck off, you little fag," he finishes, and I close my eyes and shake my head a bit before handing the bullhorn to Jim. I can almost feel the heated anger coming from my partner, despite the fact that he is the Sentinel, not I. Jim takes the bullhorn and pulls the trigger, "What is it, Fairchild? Spill. We don't have much time here." 

"Ellison," Fairchild says, "You sure do have a pretty little boyfriend there," Jason finishes as he tosses his long black locks around in the breeze and chuckles loudly, his face turning to what I, sans Sentinel-senses, can even see is a sneer before continuing, "Good choice, Detective. I can't say that I would have chosen one any less pretty for myself. Jesus," Fairchild finishes with a snort before dropping his head - resting his gun on the windowsill as he tries to compose himself - with me wildly motioning for Jim to shoot - even just to disable the asshole...but he doesn't. 

He has a clear shot, but my Sentinel refuses to meet Fairchild's so far unguarded head with the finality of a bullet...goddamn sentimental Sentinels - I really have rubbed off on him. I remind myself to have a chat with Jim when we get home, all the while watching Jason to make sure he doesn't take out my partner with some unexpected shot. "Jim," I whisper to him, grimacing when he appears to refuse to hear my plea, "Take him out, man." 

"Sssshhh," Jim hisses in reply, and I immediately silence myself so that he can focus. Jim has all the cards now, and I'm hoping and praying that he'll use all of them to bring this asshole in - immediately. "Come on, man," I coax to my partner as he clenches his jaw more tightly at the sound of my voice after several moments of silence, "Just get him out of there, Jim. Goddammit, man, come ON!" 

"Shut UP, Blair," my lover growls at me as he lifts up the bullhorn to attempt contact once more, only to find himself instantly on his knees when Fairchild's bullet meets - and instantly penetrates - his kevlar vest. One more shot manages to ring out before I can toss myself bodily over my partner-cum-lover's fallen form. Fucking cop killer rounds - we should've known. 

"JIIIIIIM!" I scream, my voice going hoarse as I throw my body over that of my partner...my best friend...my lover...distantly hearing the SWAT sniper's shot that splits open Fairchild's head even as I drop to my knees and gather Jim into my arms. Blood seeps from beneath his kevlar-covered wounds and I immediately focus, ignoring the adrenalin rush and ensuing shock that permeate my body. I pay no attention to the other cops and the flurry of activity that follows the kill-shot - my only concern is rapidly losing his life's blood, which is seeping into my jeans and my own vest as I wail for him to stay with me. 

Once I've ripped open his jacket, shirt, and vest and determined that I can't stop the blood loss, I bury my curl-laden head deep against his pecs, soaking up the racing but ever-slowing beat of my Sentinel's heart. "Noooo, Jim, please don't leave me...not now...not after all we've been through," my voice trails off into so many wordless sobs as I heave against the broad muscles that I have come to love so much. 

I can barely manage to keep speaking, but more words manage to fall from betwixt my lips, falling breathily into his unhearing ears. "Goddammit Ellison, I love you so much, man." Straddling his waist, I grab his shoulders in some never before practiced death grip as I shrug off the paramedics struggling to reach him, "You can't leave me now! Not after all this, Jim! Come ON, man, fight! FIGHT!" I scream at him as his blood continues to soak into my own shirt while I rest atop him. "FIGHT, GODDAMN YOU! DON'T YOU LEAVE ME," I cry into his shirt, kissing the blood and cloth clenched in my fists, "I CAME BACK FOR YOU...YOU CAN'T LEAVE ME NOW," I sob into his neck, ignoring the sickeningly sweet stickiness that meets my lips and my pleas. 

I drop my head in near-defeat, my tears flowing freely and mingling with his all-too-rapidly escaping life's essence, allowing my tongue to flick out just the tiniest bit to taste him as he bleeds beneath me. Once I taste him, it's all over; all I can do is press with all my might against his wounds, letting my tears bathe him. I still refuse to let the paramedics near; hell, they let ME die, wouldn't they do the same to him? 

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO**

I think I can hear Simon in the background, sounding one hell of a lot farther away than I'm sure he is at the moment, barking orders at me to release my partner, and shouting at the medics to please get me off the Detective so he can be treated. I can only shake my head; there's nothing that they can do for him now. Jim's lungs have both been punctured by that fucker's ammo, and he's gasping for what little air he can get in, only to cough it back up in little bloody spurts that stain his chin red. 

My heart is breaking as I continue to cry while I hunch over him, resting my elbows along either side of his prone shoulders, the unforgiving concrete beneath us both, my hair nearly obscuring both of our faces from all the onlookers. Which is actually a good thing, I think to myself as I lower my forehead and press it to his, placing my hands on his temples and closing my eyes, mirroring his actions of so long ago when he saved my life. He brought me back, by Gods, and it must surely be my turn now. I pray that Incacha well and truly blessed me with the Way of the Shaman all those years ago, because if there was ever a time that we needed that faith, that belief - now is it. 

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO**

As soon as I close my eyes, I'm transported to a jungle. My entire surrounding consists of the Temple of the Sentinels, a shitload of palm trees, and a big black cat that is lying - almost like a sacrifice - on its side across a very large stone altar in front of me. The cat's sides are heaving, and it's obviously in great pain; it growls and flicks its tail every few moments, but it's otherwise motionless...which terrifies me more than this whole spirit walk. 

"Jim?" I ask tentatively, momentarily confused when my voice doesn't speak my lover's given name (the one that I swore I said aloud), instead emitting his Chopec title. The great black cat lifts its head a fraction of an inch off the stone and manages a pathetic mewling sound in my direction. I find myself with tears on my spirit guide's cheeks as easily as they appeared at the foot of the warehouse on that other plane of existence. Who would ever believe that a wolf could cry? Shit, who would ever believe that ANY of this was real, even after all these years? But I digress again... 

"Enqueri?" I say again as I pad to where he lays, panting, on top of the altar at the Temple of the Sentinels. I sit on my haunches and growl at him, snapping my jaws as I propel my front paws off the ground so that they come to rest on the stone alongside the jaguar's back. He can only manage to pant a little harder at my intrusion, and I flick my tongue out and taste the back of his neck. My spirit animal howls at the coppery leavings and drops back to the ground, pacing madly around and around the altar for several minutes before stopping once more, this time in front of the cat. 

The feline's gorgeous otherworldly blue eyes are rolling around in his head, all that grace and animal muscle clenching and releasing as he gasps for breaths, trying as hard as he can to focus on me, despite his fight for oxygen. Everything I try to speak comes out in growls or Chopec, and I'm so confused that I'm not sure whether or not I'm helping or hindering the situation...I can't speak Chopec! It's one of the few languages I never managed to master, and Incacha didn't exactly stick around long enough to teach me. I'm on my own here, and my Sentinel is dying... 

I suck it up, even as a wolf, and manage to once more prop my front paws on the stone altar where my Sentinel rests. I make absolutely certain that he is meeting my gaze with his own eyes as I jump bodily onto the stone and mimic my human stance over him, wolf straddling cat in the spirit realm as I am him in the other one. Strange, because I can hear my human form sobbing and whimpering over Jim's even as our spirit forms mirror that very same behavior, my erstwhile paws coming to rest against the temples of the great cat beneath my canine form. 

I allow my spirit self to feel the rage and sorrow and grief and love that I feel as a human, and seconds later I find my spirit self watching as salty tears drip down my elongated furry canine snout and onto the form below. The great black cat twitches when the first bit of liquid meets his own nose, and my spirit guide's lips pull up in a mock-snarl as the cat licks at the salt water landing in his whiskers. His long tail twitches more and more actively as he absorbs each drop, his growl becoming stronger beneath me with each flick of his tongue until he manages to pull himself up moments later with a great roar that resounds throughout the entire spirit plane... 

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO**

When I finally manage to open my eyes back in Cascade, several things have happened. It would appear that I was out longer than I thought...or...something. Jim is propped up against the back of an ambulance, his gaze clouded and completely focused in my direction - shit, he's Zoned. Well, I can fix that easily enough, I think to myself. I manage to sit up, weakly get myself onto my feet - sans assistance, since all the other officers are running around in a state of complete mayhem trying to figure out what's wrong with Jim - and then walk ever so haltingly towards my lover. "Jim," I rasp scratchily, the words making my throat ache. 

As per his Zone, there is no immediate reply, and I sit down gingerly next to him, taking his hands in mine and holding them against my chest. I make certain that he can feel the vibrations of my heart from inside my ribs while I continue to murmur to him in my Guide voice, coaxing him back from the Spirit Plane, or wherever it is that he goes without me on these little trips. 

"Come on, baby," I coax him so quietly that only he could hear, "Come back to me, Jim. I have no fucking idea how you are not wounded, but if my dream has anything to do with it, we have so much to talk about once you're back here with me." He begins to blink, once, then three more times, and I smile gleefully, barely able to contain my happiness - and my endearments - as he surfaces. 

"That's it, babe, come on," I encourage him, and I catch a brief glimpse of a smile from him as he releases the oxygen mask that's been fastened around his head for the last gods-know-how-many-minutes, only to beam at me from his seat at my right. Jim puts his left arm around my shoulders and pulls me close, leaning down to murmur in my ear that we are even, finally, after all this time; I've saved him. Before I can question him, he places his palms on my temples, bringing back the image of our spirit walk, and I find myself with tears trailing down my cheeks as I come back to wakefulness. I've spent the past ten minutes or so reliving the spirit walk that united us once more against the sins of the Tribe, and I'm almost speechless at the enormity of it all...almost. 

"Jim," I croak to him, my eyes full of tears that spill down my cheeks before I can even begin to stop them once I'm coherent, "I...did I do that?" 

"Yeah, Chief, you did," he tells me as his own tears spill down his face, trying to pool in the edges of his grin, only to be wiped away with a strong palm - paw? - before he reaches out to me and swipes mine away with an overly attentive thumb. 

"But...but how?" I ask him, genuinely blown away that all this really happened. That he really IS still here with me, not lying prone on the ground, dead with a hole in each lung with me sobbing over him, "Jim, I...I don't understand, man," I tell him, and he places two fingers over my lips, effectively (even if only temporarily) silencing me. 

"Shut up, Sandburg. Okay? Just for once, shut up. I love you," he murmurs to me as he removes his fingers from my lips and places his own full mouth there to meet mine, all the others watching be damned at our now-public display. 

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO**

**THAT NIGHT**  
 **852 PROSPECT**

"Are you sure you're feeling alright, Jim?" I ask him for what must be the twentieth time since we got home three hours ago, "I don't want you to strain yourself, man," I tell him. I wince just the slightest bit when he rolls his eyes at me and gives me the finger from the couch while I prepare dinner, ignoring his motion with a slight chuckle and a shake of my own head. Yep, things are right back to where they belong - right back to just outside of normal. 

"Sandburg," Jim replies exasperatedly, once he's managed to stow the bird he'd graced me with only moments previous, "You need a hobby. Let's think of what you could do that would take your mind off of my well-being, even if only for - " I cut him off in mid-rant, and he merely snorts at my rudeness, even as I finish up the supper I'm cooking him in celebration of our day. 

"LOOK, Ellison," I tell him sternly as I dish out two huge bowls of stir fry over rice, "You ARE my hobby, alright? Through thick and thin, richer or poorer, sickness and health - as today WAYYY more than proved, man - I'm here for you. I love you, Jim," I tell him tenderly, and I grin slightly at his misty-eyed welcome when I hand him his dinner before heading around the end of the couch and plopping myself down nearly in his lap with my own bowl. "Now eat up, Sentinel. You need to keep up your strength." 

"Yeah, Chief. I do, don't I? But it's more like our strength," he tells me as he shovels in the first forkful with a heartfelt moan of approval. 

"Yeah, Jim. It's ours," I tell him with a nod of my head as I fork my own dinner between my lips. My heart nearly bursts with love for the man beside me as I chew, and smile, and simply enjoy the closeness that we have so come to crave - and love, and expect - from one another. After all, tomorrow is another day... 

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO**

Yeah, that's it. Hope you liked it. Write me & tell me. Take care, ALL! 

* * *

End Tears Of The Shaman by Jvantheterrible: duranjaxter@comcast.net

Author and story notes above.

  
Disclaimer: _The Sentinel_ is owned etc. by Pet Fly, Inc. These pages and the stories on them are not meant to infringe on, nor are they endorsed by, Pet Fly, Inc. and Paramount. 


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